


Exit Strategy

by themysteryvanishing



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysteryvanishing/pseuds/themysteryvanishing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Exit Strategy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Dammit, Helena, a little help here?" the agent hissed as she yanked on the belt of her trench coat, which was stuck in the teeth of two interlocking steps near the top of the hotel escalator.

Helena, who'd darted ahead, returned, cheeks flushed with more than exertion, and gently pushed past grumbling passersby. Chuckling, she gave the emergency stop button a playful push.

"My apologies, please excuse us," Helena said with an easy smile to an older couple, who continued on, bemused. She tossed her silky raven hair to one side and surveyed the spectacle with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Said spectacle merely involved one Myka Bering, dressed in a rather expensive beige coat and black heels (and _heavens_ , how Helena loved those heels, because who wouldn't love linking arms--and more--with a modern Amazon?).

Myka was thoroughly unimpressed with the situation. "You do realize--" she started but quickly lowered her voice as another couple staggered past her, "--you do realize I'm stuck, _on_ an escalator _in_ a hotel _on_ a weeknight, and that this jacket is the only article of clothing I'm wearing, which I might add, was entirely _your_ idea?"

"Not entirely," Helena countered with a clever smile. "You seemed _quite_ keen on the roleplaying bit. You look rather ravishing with a martini in hand, you know."

"Well, if _you_ hadn't been so keen to get up to our room--ahem," Myka coughed, as an older gentleman plodded past, his cane thunking with every step. Silently fuming, she watched him go through a curtain of mussed dark curls. 

Helena laughed, quieter this time. "Allow me, darling. It _is_ Valentine's Day, after all." Taking advantage of the momentary pause in foot traffic, she slipped off her own coat, which was long and black and full of, well, secrets, and carefully draped it around Myka's shoulders. 

Myka's eyes widened. "What're you doing?"

"Just follow my lead, darling. Remove your jacket."

Myka's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "This is the most--I can't believe--"

"You can stand here all night, Myka. Sooner or later, someone else will suggest the same thing, but without my brilliant exit strategy," Helena said, leaning in to whisper in Myka's ear.

With a sigh that was equal parts indignation and resignation, Myka leaned in closer, her bare chest now pressed against Helena's, and quickly slipped her arms into the jacket. One frenzied heart pounded against another.

"Pete will not hear a single word. About any of this. Ever." Myka raised an eyebrow in warning and she hastily fastened the coat's belt around her waist. The longer she gazed at the woman who'd just saved her from a public indecency fine, though, the more the corner of her mouth twitched. 

Helena inclined her head in thoughtful consideration. "Not a bad start though, hm?"

Together, they eyed the abandoned jacket lying in a heap on the escalator. They continued onward, past the bar and a row of slack-jawed onlookers, and Myka fought the urge to laugh. "Where'd you learn to do that anyway?"


End file.
